The Cavern

A warm breeze wafted over the tired crowd as it moved as one out of the mine shafts. It carried a faint scent of Eluvian spice nestled in the breeze. If asked, everyone would know just where that scent came from because it could only come from one place. Tucked in the heart of the common district, sat a small cavern where warm food and drinks could be had. It was the one place in the mines where the denizens could enjoy what little freedom they were afforded. If asked, the creatures of the mine wouldn't remember the story of the mother who had started the cavern as place of refuge for her ostracized son. All they could remember now was that it was a place that all could go to get food into their hungry bellies.

Alexander remembered the place quite well. It had once been a dumping ground for Enthrall addicts, and the dispossessed, but his mother had turned it into a haven. It was a place of warmth, and comfort for him as a child. He liked the familiar nooks and crannies, and the dusky hues of the Norvian lamps. He liked the way the floor was made smooth from years of creatures passing over it.

But what Alexander remembered the most was the Eluvian cakes that Ma’el, his mother’s cook, used to make. He remembered he used to stand on his tiptoes, and look over the table as Ma’el kneaded the dough for the cakes. He remembered how the Eluvian spice would sprinkle all around him, landing on his nose or on his lips, and how he used to lick the sweet powder off his fingertips. Sometimes his mother would wipe it off his face with her rough apron, and laugh. Sometimes Ma’el would swat him away with her tentacle hands.

When he wasn’t hanging around the area where Ma’el made the food, Alexander would sit in the corner and watch the creatures that came in. Sometimes he would sit for hours on his rough stone chair, swinging his tiny legs and eating Ma’el’s cakes as his mother flitted from patron to patron. The tables and chairs were unevenly cut stone slabs, of all different shapes and sizes. The walls were empty except for the dancing shadows from the lamps. There was no artistry to the cavern, but where it lacked in sophistication and grace, it gained in warmth, and familiarity.

As a young boy, he would spend hours just listening to the muted tones of the workers as they ate their meals, and drank their bitter drinks. There were the deep miners with their scarred muscles who like to play the games of luck. There were the cleaners whose narrow lean frames were almost as narrow as their personalities. They liked to puff away on what his mother liked to call “death sticks”. The merchants would pad between the tables, and talk to everyone, and the mine guards would talk to no one.

Every size, shape and species were accepted and allowed in the cavern. It was his mother’s word, and his mother’s word was law there. No violence was accepted. Ma’el and her sisters made sure of that. They were a big race, rough and wild. Alexander never knew how, but in some way, his mother had garnered a small, begrudging loyalty from them. It was enough to keep the peace. When he got older, that loyalty protected him from the hatred that was directed at him over his father.


Now as he stared out of the cold window from the sterile white room of the Academy, he missed the simple warmth and laughter. At the Academy, he had more than he could ever ask for, but even with all the comforts in the world around him, this room was nothing more than a holding cell. Every time he thought of the past, the bands around his arm, his shackles, would remind him that despite his having next to nothing when he was younger, he was still free.

Alexander wasn’t certain what lay ahead of him in his future. It had been a few days since he was taken from the mines, and brought to the Aeilonian Royal Academy. He still wasn’t sure what it was he would be doing. All he knew was that this place was no home. Could it ever become a home? He wasn’t so certain. What he knew about home was that a home was the place the heart lingered on fondly. For him, it was a dirty, low brow cavern tucked away at the heart of a Prisoner’s Pit.

Alexander sighed as he stared out his tiny window at the unforgiving stars above, and he thought of cakes.